Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself. Somebody may be on the watch—perhaps, that old ginger-hackled Jew. Melusine got to her feet and, tucking her shoulder under his arm on the uninjured side, put her arm about him to hold his waist, and thus contrived to take most of his weight. She stood looking down upon him with dilated eyes. “Suppose you call me by my proper name,” she said quietly. “I’ll run, too,” she volunteered.
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